


The Ballroom Dilemma

by cosmicaces



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Light-Hearted, i'll figure out more tags as i go, saira isnt too happy about this but cleo is ecstatic, takes place somewhere in season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicaces/pseuds/cosmicaces
Summary: Once a year, there is a gathering of the most esteemed criminals in a remote location, serving as a time to celebrate their victories and to unwind from any accumulated stress. To Cleo, this celebration is one of the most important things in the world, having an opportunity to join other criminals of a high class similar to herself. However, she's run into one complication: this year's party is a ball, and she lacks a partner.Having run out of options, she decides to ask the last person she could think of.





	1. You Won't Know Unless You Ask

The clicking of her heels consumed the empty air around her, seeming as if the world itself was out to mock her. Reminding her of how alone she was. It felt childish, really. Cleo knew that she didn’t have to go. It was a ball, after all! Only some of the most important people in the underworld were going to be there. Not a big deal at all. Especially not with the fact that one of Faculty members went rogue, information that, once it had been made known, surely affected her reputation.

Cleo sighed. She didn’t have to go, no, but there was a creeping feeling that she absolutely had to. On one hand, staying home would allow her to recollect herself, to focus on plotting a new heist. On the other, the mere thought of giving the impression that Shadowsan’s betrayal has affected her so deeply that she can’t attend something so important such as this...well, it bothered her, to say the least.

She paused, taking a moment to take in her surroundings. When Cleo had started wandering around the halls, she had only intended to walk off the nerves that rattled inside of her. While she had no exact destination in mind, she couldn’t help but feel surprised to realize that she was standing in front of Saira’s lab. Looking through the window pane, she saw her, tinkering away at...some sort of technological orb. Whatever its function was supposed to be, she couldn’t say she was exactly interested.

It wasn’t surprising. Ever since the failed caper in Rio, they’ve all been on edge, fearing that, perhaps, another one of them was going to turn traitor and sell information to the enemy. Despite that, it’s felt like this was the closest they’ve ever been, continuing through this newfound hardship. That said, she’s noticed that Saira has become more distant, the gradual lack of her participation becoming more evident to the point that she’s scarce in their lounge, instead choosing to remain in her lab to try and invent some new brilliant technology that will turn the tables. Knowing her reputation of quickly abandoning projects due to a lack of attention, Cleo couldn’t help but worry that the doctor was going to work herself into an early grave.

Now, Countess Cleo didn’t think of herself as someone who necessarily cared about other people, nonetheless trying to convince them into taking their own wellbeing into consideration. However, there was some part of her that didn’t want to leave her like...that. 

Perhaps...perhaps she could convince her to accompany her? Truthfully speaking, Cleo hadn’t even considered asking her, given that she didn’t seem the type for an occasion such as this. With all things considered, however, she was her best option. She may not have an interest in history or fashion, but Saira was a genius in most, if not all fields of science. Based on her previous experiences in these types of social gatherings, those topics always made for good conversation. 

Asides from her own personal gain, she was sure that the ball would help Saira as well. To give her a reason to pry herself away from her work and remember that she didn’t have to go through this alone. Well, she wasn’t sure how she’d gather that from a ball, but it’s the thought that counts.

The question was...how was she going to convince her to go? Cleo was quite excelled at methods of persuasion, but Saira was a different case than most. She supposed that she would have to “go with the flow”, as a simpleton might say.

Taking a spare moment to ease her nerves, she entered the laboratory. 

“Good evening, Doctor.” Saira grunted a greeting, her attention never straying from...whatever it was she was occupied with. “Might I spare a moment of your time?”

“Apologies, Countess, but as I’m sure you can see I’m rather focused at the moment.”

“You don’t need to completely divert your attention; I’m asking you to just...listen. And give light responses. Nothing too major, I would hope.” There was a brief pause before she answered.

“Fine. Continue.” With her permission given, Cleo began absently pacing the lab, careful to not get too close to the scientist. She was sure that she’d get a bitten response if she further distracted her.

“My acquaintances of the underground are hosting a party, a yearly gathering of high-class criminals such as myself. They’ve sent out dozens upon dozens of invitations, and, as expected, I’ve received mine a few days ago. However, I’ve run into a small issue: I lack a partner. The invitation recommends to bring at least one trusted individual, and there is no one suitable I can find.” Here it goes. “I came to you, wondering if you would like to accompany me?” Saira stopped what she was doing to look at her, a look of pure befuddlement on her face.

“Why ask me?”

“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the most suitable person I could bring. Besides, I think an opportunity to wind down would benefit you.”

“Countess, I assure you that I don’t—” At that precise moment, the piece of technology in her hands glowed brightly and she could hear a jolt of static. Saira flinched, suddenly dropping it onto the table where it promptly rolled a few inches to the left before a piece of its paneling fell off. “….need to wind down.” She rubbed her hand in a soothing motion, her brow furrowed as she stared at it, presumably debating on a response.

“I’m sure there are more suitable members you could find to accompany you,” she eventually said.

“It’s...complicated.” Saira looked towards Cleo with a raised brow. “I want to go with someone around my age and is readily available, but the only ones who fit my standards are the other faculty.”

“And?” Cleo pursed her lips. “Why not ask Brunt? A party seems up her alley. I’m sure she’ll dress up if you ask nicely.” She felt appalled at that suggestion.

“Coach Brunt is much too brutish for an arrangement such as this.”

“Well, why not Professor Maelstrom?”

“I’d fear that he’d...unsettle the other guests. The last thing I would want would be to be escorted out.” Cleo averted her gaze, twiddling her thumbs. “You’re the only one who’s really suitable.”

“Untrue. I’m sure Ms. Booker would join if you asked her.”

“That’s the thing: she already has a partner. I’ve found myself at a loss.”

The following silence weighed heavily on her. Cleo’s not a fool, she knew that Saira wouldn’t be too keen on going to a party. After all, she spent the majority of her time staying away from any form of social encounters, instead choosing to fiddle in her lab for the majority of the day, concocting new schemes or inventions. Or looking up recipes. Or images of cats. Truth be told she actually didn’t really know what she did all day.

That said...it was worth a shot. To ask. It was important to her image, after all! Besides, what sort of Countess would miss a ball such as this?

To her surprise, there was a heavy sigh.

“When is this taking place?”

“Saturday evening, a few nights from now.” Saira looked at her, and then to her fizzling, smoking scrap of technology in front of her.

“I _suppose_ I don’t necessarily have anything better to do.” Cleo clapped her hands together, her eyes crinkling in delight.

“You promise?”

“Sure.”

“Splendid!”

“What kind of party is it?”

“A ball, of course.” It was very difficult reading what her expression was, but she was sure that she was none too pleased. Unfortunately for her, she did promise. And she knew this. It was clear from the traces of defeat that sunk her shoulders ever so slightly. “I’ll owe you a favor,” Cleo quickly added in. “Anything you want.”

“Do _you_ promise.”

“Of course! And a lady never goes back on her word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw there's a lack of vile-centric fics so you gotta create the content you want
> 
> anyways hello hello thank you for reading. i don't...usually write silly-ish/light-hearted fics, nonetheless chapter fics so this is new for me. that said, i hope its okay??? to add onto the list of things i don't write, ballroom dancing is also pretty up there but it was the theme i wanted to go with so...here we are
> 
> as a note for the next chapter: i hc that dr. bellum is non-binary and that they're closeted! i can see them being okay w she/her pronouns so long as it's used by someone they know relatively well, but they Much Rather prefer they/them because gender is weird and confusing. i'm bringing this up now bcuz the next chapter is going to be in their perspective and they will be referring to themself with they/them pronouns
> 
> now this is a minor pet peeve but i'm lowkey losin my mind over how many ppl misspell dr. bellum's name. in the other series it is sarah but in the 2019 version it's saira :( having been someone whose name was constantly misspelled growing up i cant help but cry a wee bit seein' it happen


	2. Dance Lessons

“There are going to be two main dances: the Viennese waltz and the country waltz. The Viennese waltz originated in France in 1559, being recognized as the oldest of all ballroom dances. It was introduced in England in 1812 and soon became popular throughout the 19th century—”

“I can look it up on my own time, Countess,” Saira interrupted, doing little to mask their annoyance. “If I wanted a history lesson, I would’ve spent my day in the library.” 

Cleo pursed her lips, clearly unappreciative towards their attitude. However, instead of commenting on it, she held out her hand. “In that case, shall we begin?” Having no choice, Saira begrudgingly accepted it, rising to their feet. “We’re going to start with the country waltz, if that’s alright with you?” 

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.” Cleo smiled at them. Suddenly, she guided their left hand to her shoulder before gently taking ahold of their other hand. Then, she pulled them closer, her right hand resting on their shoulder blade. Saira couldn’t help but hope that she didn’t notice how tense they had quickly become.

Saira knew what to expect, going into the lesson. They supposed that, despite their mental preparation, they were still unprepared. How odd it was. It wasn’t as if this was the first time that they were this close. They sat next to each other in the lounge, after all, stood shoulder to shoulder when they would send off operatives. Why should this be any different? Standing under her gaze, solely focused on them and nothing else. Seeing how soft it appeared to be. Those small observations made their chest feel tight. 

Cleo’s voice snapped them out of their stupor.

“Hm, your height may make things rather difficult. Perhaps we can acquire you some heels?”

“Instead of giving me heels, why not consider removing your own?”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Then do not expect me to wear something that’ll only serve to make me stumble, Countess.”

“...I _suppose_ that’s alright.” Cleo squeezed their hand. “Let’s start with the basics, shall we?” Saira didn’t even get the chance to respond before she started to explain. Unfortunately, anything she said went in one ear and out the other. Truthfully, they weren’t intending for that to happen. It’s just...well, they found it much more difficult to listen when it was about something they truly had no interest in. “Do you understand?”

“Completely.” A simple lie. With the situation they’re in, they knew that it wouldn’t be wise to tell her the truth. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was going to sink in the second time.

“Good. We’re going to perform it as a 3-count tempo. Ready?”

“I suppose.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll move slowly so that you’ll be able to easily familiarize yourself with the pattern. One—” Cleo stepped forward. Not wanting her to accidentally step on them, they moved back. “Two—” The gentle tug prompted them to step forward this time, now having an idea as to what they were supposed to be doing. “Three—” This time, Saira mimicked Cleo’s movement. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

They grunted.

“I’ll take that as a no. Let’s keep practicing, faster this time.”

She began counting again, essentially guiding them through the steps as her voice kept distant in their ears. They weren’t going to verbally admit it, but it truly wasn’t all that bad. The dancing, that is; the pattern came so easily that they hardly had to put in much thought in knowing when and where to step. To be fair, this form of dance was one they were rather familiar with, considering how often it would be performed in any type of media that had a formal dance.

Saira absently squeezed Cleo’s hand, taking in the warmth that emanated from her grip. They couldn’t quite place their finger on it, but there was something nice about this. Seeing how dedicated the Countess was in helping them learn how to dance. Sure, it was for her own personal gain, but they supposed that there was something charming about this.

“Ow!” Saira flinched, the sound of her voice jolting them out of their musings. They stepped on her foot.

“Ah, sorry,” they said, remaining unenthusiastically monotone. Cleo sighed.

“I suppose that was to be expected. After all, you _are_ still learning.” She paused, taking a moment to resume the beginning position. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

They did. Not for very long, but long enough that Saira felt as if they were going to fall asleep standing up. The practice was dull, boring. The only thing keeping them here was their promise to Cleo. In any other case, they wouldn’t have cared about breaking it but...something just felt off. Different. Another thing they weren’t sure of.

“Alright, I believe that you’ve gotten the basics down.”

“Isn’t that just exciting.”

“Please, spare at least _some_ enthusiasm for the ball.” Now, Saira often had difficulty telling when people were being sarcastic. This was not one of those cases. Oddly enough, they could catch something of a light-hearted hint in her voice. They could just be hearing things. “Do you dizzy easily?”

“Not at all.”

“Perfect. For this next part, we’re going to…” Saira pressed their lips together in annoyance, their eyes glancing to the clock across the room. It had only been 20 minutes and yet they felt as if they had been in here for hours. How much longer could this possibly go on? They weren’t sure as to how much longer they could keep themself from feeling absolutely miserable about all of this.

The uncomfortableness of the twirl dragged their attention away from their thoughts. Something about Cleo’s gesture was forceful, rough. Could she have noticed their inattentiveness? Intentionally doing something to snap them out of their inattentiveness, even if only for a moment? No matter the reason, it worked. A little, that is. Cleo’s voice sounded like gibberish in their ears and yet now they were noticing that she held them closer after the twirl, hand pressed on the center of their upper back. Her hand slunk back to its original position as soon as they noticed, however, leading them to wonder whether or not it was intentional in the first place.

It didn’t happen again with the next twirl. Instead, the heat of embarrassment crept into their cheeks. What reason would they have to be embarrassed? No one is watching them. They should know; any and all surveillance equipment is managed by them. 

“You’re quite a natural at this, actually,” Cleo praised, looking at them fondly. Then, Saira stepped on her foot. Intentionally, this time. They took some delight in seeing the momentary look of pain and bitterness that crossed her face. “Moving on…”

Everything around them was like an unexperienced photographer’s first capture, blurry and unfocused. Tiny little details drifted in and out of view. The soft shine of the wooden pillars. The ceiling’s wavering light. The shadows that lurked just beyond the classroom’s door. It didn’t help that the scent of Cleo’s perfume was starting to become absolutely overwhelming, making them all too aware of how warm she was. Of how gentle she was treating them, the regular sternness of her voice somehow having yet to be present. It was strange, using those words to describe someone with titles such as the “Queen of Mean” or the “Empress of Distress.”

It was at that moment when they noticed a sudden difference in the pattern. For the past few...minutes, Cleo had been spinning them outward before returning to the initial stance. This time, she spun them inward, capturing them in an embrace while keeping that delicate yet firm grip on their hands. They weren’t moving anymore. If this was deliberate or apart of the routine, they wouldn’t have any idea. Saira was left there, pressed against her as their face became increasingly flushed. All they could smell now was that sickly sweet perfume. Feel as she leaned towards them, just hovering over their shoulder.

“It’d be wise to remain focused, my dear doctor,” Cleo purred, her breath warm on their ear. “If we were to stumble, we’d be quite the laughing stock.” With that, she spun them around again, returning to the default position.

Saira could only hope that they looked more composed than they felt. Judging by the Countess’s sly smile, that delightful crinkle in her eyes...the answer was no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they say "i suppose" a lot but man when it just makes sense it makes sense y'know
> 
> in the original version of the chapter, i actually wrote cleo explaining how to waltz. however, it messed up the flow of the chapter so i had to figure out how to rewrite it. i ended up going with bellum just...kinda zoning out constantly. i dont know about y'all but i cant focus if in genuinely not interested in something, even if it is like...physically engaging. it kinda ends up being like, ambiance if that makes sense


	3. It Suits You

Saira never showed an interest in fashion, did she? No, the only time she actually showed genuine interest was when she could weave her tech into the seams of the hats for Fashion Fest. She recalled listening to her gush on and on about the brilliance of it all, two types of complexities being melded into one. Cleo couldn’t quite remember the specifics of what she talked about, being that she could hardly understand a word of it. What stuck with her was how joyous she was, fingers drumming against the cool of the table with a beaming grin.

Oh, how she would love to go back to that moment; it was the closest she could get to the scientist sharing her joy in something fashion-related. Admittedly, it was only due to the involvement of her technology, but it was something at the very least.

“Countess,” Saira greeted, her voice bringing her out of her thoughts.

“You know you can call me Cleo.”

“I know.” Something about that stung. She couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was. “So, what’s next?”

“We’re going to be choosing our attire and getting it properly fitted.”

“Sounds _very_ exciting.”

“Save the enthusiasm, remember?”

“I am. Can you not tell?” Cleo breathed out a resigned sigh. 

“I didn’t ask for more sarcasm.” Saira furrowed her brow but said nothing else on the topic. Cleo knew that the scientist wasn’t looking forward to it, but the unrelenting snide remarks were really starting to get to her. Yeah, she made her promise to join her, but it wasn’t like she actually had to keep it. If she was just going to keep up this attitude, she’d rather go without her, even if it meant damaging her reputation. “Let’s go.”

-

“See anything you like?” Cleo asked, standing amidst the various displays of gowns. Of all the things she had planned today, clothes shopping was not one of them. To put it simply, she had assumed that Saira had owned at least one or two dresses that might fit the occasion. According to the doctor herself, however, she had discarded anything of the sort.

“What?” she had said. “I couldn’t imagine that I would ever go to another social gathering after joining VILE, so I cleaned my closet to make room for things of more importance.” Those things, as Cleo knew, being various forgotten projects. To each their own, she presumed.

Meanwhile, Saira slowly walked around the displays, arms neatly folded behind her back. Occasionally, she’d reach out and touch the fabric, but it didn’t seem to be out of any form of intrigue. No, if it was interest, her movements wouldn’t be so slow, so disjointed, so..._mechanical_.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, devoid of any emotion.

“If you think I’m going to wear a gown, you are completely mistaken.” There were a lot of things Cleo was expecting. This, however, was not one of them. Saira used to have a few dresses. Why would she suddenly turn up her nose at having to wear one again? Was there something she was missing? 

“Why not?” Cleo eyed her curiously. If she wasn’t reading for body language, she was sure that she would’ve missed it: the stiffness in her posture, her thumbs absently rubbing at her fingers, the slight purse of her lips... How could the mere notion of having to wear a dress bring her discomfort? It was downright baffling to Cleo.

“...If I tried to explain, I don’t believe you’d understand.” Understand? What was there to understand?

Cleo took a moment to recollect her thoughts. 

When Saira told her the reasoning for emptying out her closet, she didn’t think much of it at first. Why would she? Admittedly, it was a valid reason, considering her anti-social tendencies. Now, it seemed that there was another unspoken reason. Its exacts were something she couldn’t figure out, but if Saira didn’t tell her...well, it must be something personal. It wasn’t her place to pry.

No matter the issue, Cleo thought of a solution. 

“Would you rather wear white tie?” The mention of an alternative option seemed to soothe her nerves. “It may normally be men’s wear, but...I want you to feel comfortable, Saira. As comfortable as you can get,” she quickly added, having noticed the beginning motions of a stern comment curl her lips. Cleo took her hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs across her knuckles in a soothing motion. “I know I’m forcing you out of your comfort zone, but I really do appreciate that you agreed to do this with me. The least I can do is ensure that you’ll wear something that’ll make you feel good about yourself.” Her expression was completely unreadable.

“Alright.” There was nothing more Cleo wanted now than to see her smile. It was surely her own selfishness that geared those thoughts, but the thought of Saira enjoying something that held her interest downright tickled her. 

“Come. We can look at a selection of suits and promptly get you tailored.”

“How exhilarating.”

-

“Have you finished changing?” Saira stepped out of the changing booth, appearing to be rather contented for once. At least, as content as she could get, considering the circumstances. Either way, Cleo was going to accept this as a victory.

“Oh! You look _absolutely_ dashing.” The edges of Saira’s mouth twitched in a frown as...are...are her eyes deceiving her? Did she see the traces of a blush tinging her cheeks? Perhaps it was just a trick of the light. Perhaps she was just stressed.

Cleo walked over to her, adjusting her bowtie. It was difficult to tell what she was feeling. As a matter of fact, she could almost never tell what was going through her head. Not with those goggles obscuring her eyes. They made it so the only tells of emotion could be read upon their brow. Actually…

“I do have some rather unfortunate news, however.”

“Hm?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to lose the goggles.”

“What?!” 

“To put it simply, they don’t belong at a ball.”

“I need these to see.”

“You don’t have a spare pair of glasses?” There was a moment of silence.

“I do.”

“Would you be alright with going in those?”

“I don’t think I necessarily have a choice in the matter, do I?” Cleo frowned, pulling lines around her lips as she gazed down at her, hands resting on her shoulders. “Don’t look at me like that, Countess; I don’t need your sympathy. I made a promise, and I very well intend to keep it.” Saira removed her goggles before looking up at her with mismatched eyes. She could see a spark of irritation in their sheen.

You have beautiful eyes.

Those were the words that almost breezed past her lips. How awkward would that have been? Complimenting her while completely lost in the moment. Now that she was thinking about it, Cleo couldn’t recall a time where she had actually seen her eyes unhidden by those goggles. To see them without that vile shade of green was...now, Cleo didn’t think of her as a romantic but, and these were the only words she could think of, it was simply breathtaking. One amber, one blue. How rare that must be.

“What.”

“Oh, nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! the next chapter is going to take a while because im absolutely stumped with how i want to write it. theres also the factor of "oh i have all these other wips i want to start/work on oh boy priority" but...yeah y'all know how it is


	4. The Ball

Saira paced through the hall, nervously awaiting for the countess to exit her room. There were many reasons why they were anxious. Let’s see...a.) they’re really not looking forward to this, b.) they don’t want anyone to see them like this, and c.) did they already say that they weren’t looking forward to this? Because the thought of ingesting something sickly crossed their mind so they would have a legitimate reason to not go. It was unfortunate, really. Just yesterday Saira actually felt...okay about this. Well, maybe not okay, but they had come to terms with what was going on and told themself that there was absolutely no way they were going to back out of this.

How much longer was Cleo going to take? 

Not very long, apparently. The sound of the door opening admittedly startled them, but the momentary panic soon vanished when they saw her. Unsurprisingly, she looked incredibly gaudy. That wasn’t how Cleo would phrase it. No, she’d say that she looked extravagant.

She wore a sapphire blue dress, the skirt reminiscent of overlapping flower petals. The embroidery on the bodice was sticked into floral patterns, twisting, golden vines that budded into smaller flowers, finished with sequins and pearls that glinted in the light. Its neckline (if it could even be considered that, given how looped over a shoulder and under a collar bone) managed to continue with this theme, the fabric blooming in a puff of ruffles atop her shoulder. What was it she said...the fabric...no, it wasn’t silk. Couldn’t be velvet either. They could’ve swore it began with a “T”. The word made them think of taffy. Taffeta. That was the fabric. 

Saira was so caught up in remembering the fabric that they almost missed something: Cleo wasn’t wearing gloves. Truth be told, they never thought they’d see the day where the Countess would risk exposing her delicate hands to the harsh environment. Then again...they weren’t wearing their gloves either. And they needed them to avoid the discomforts that came with direct touch. Perhaps it was a show of solidarity? Solidarity didn’t feel like the right word. Sympathy?

Her nails were blue. Of course they were blue.

“Well?” All of Saira’s thoughts paused, the momentary panic of being put on the spot writhing in their chest. Did she say something? Was she expecting them to say something? Were they staring? “Shall we be off?” Oh.

Cleo was holding out an arm, inviting. They wanted to be optimistic. They really did. If not for their sake, then for hers. No matter what they wanted, they couldn’t drown out that impending sense of dread that gnawed at their resolve, manifesting scenarios of how everything can go wrong in dozens of different ways.

Saira sighed, gently taking ahold of her arm. _Think of it as...an experiment_, they mused. _You can try to predict the outcome, but in the end, you don’t know until you try._

“Lead the way, Countess.”

-

The ballroom was gargantuan, excessively so for the amount of guests that were expected to arrive. It wasn’t as garish as they would’ve expected it to been, but the harsh light that emanated from the chandelier made up for the lack of adornments. The tables of food and drink were the next thing that caught their attention, but only due to the light’s sheen reflecting off of the cloth. They could already see guests gathered around them, discussing matters over a glass of wine. Saira was...assuming it was wine. Wine seemed like the kind of fancy beverage they’d serve at upper class gatherings.

“Saira, are you alright? You feel tense.” They looked up at Cleo, her brow knotted with traces of concern. How they wished to be wearing their goggles right now. They should’ve brought tinted lenses, perhaps that would’ve helped alleviate the strain their eyes were currently under.

“I’m fine, Countess,” Saira replied, turning back towards the center of the hall. “It’s…” their brow furrowed, pondering what to say, “...bright. Brighter than I would’ve expected.” _Than I would like._

“Is that so much of a problem?”

“I wear tinted lenses on a daily basis, Cleo. I don’t think it takes a genius to realize that my eyes wouldn’t be suited to this particular level of brightness.” Cleo hummed, pursing her lips. 

“All you need to say is that your eyes are sensitive to light. There’s no need to make any unnecessary remarks.”

“Hmm.”

“Ah, mi Contessa! How good it is to see you.” They both turned, watching as Ms. Booker approached, her arms folded behind her back. Her outfit wasn’t as excessive as Cleo’s, but it was tacky nonetheless. Her dress was a smooth velvet green, the skirt ruffled and folded like leaves among a sea of trees. The torso turned to a deep shade of green, outfitted with shining white sequins resembling stars in a dark sky. Her evening gloves and pearl necklace truly tied the whole thing together.

Saira could’ve scoffed. They really had been spending too much time around Cleo.

“Good evening, Ms. Booker,” she greeted. “Might I ask who is accompanying you?” The bookkeeper gestured towards one of the tables of food, where a small group of people were deep in conversation.

“I’m with the man with the graying hair. He asked so politely that I simply couldn’t refuse.”

“How charming.” Ms. Booker then turned to look at them.

“Oh! I would’ve never expected to see you at something like this.”

“I would’ve never imagined that I would one day be at a ball but here we are.”

Whatever it was that Ms. Booker replied with, Saira didn’t catch it. The sudden cacophony of laughter bubbling up from a few corners of the hall caught their attention, echoing so loudly that their ears stung. Soon, it melted back into the dull, ambient chatter that consumed the silence. They truly couldn’t believe it, they actually took the years they’ve spent in their lab for granted. There was no place else they’d rather be right now. Being surrounded by baubles and beakers, bubbling, fizzing, technology crackling and sizzling...it was home. This was far from it.

-

Saira wasn’t sure as to how much time had passed after their run-in with Ms. Booker. It felt as though they were out of place, a fracture in an otherwise refined glass display. People shuffled around them, a few shook their hands, distant questions of research met with muddled responses. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand what was going on, no. It was just...hm, how to put it? Too much? They wanted something to focus on, but everything around sought attention. It was fascinating in its own regard, but it was a fascination they wanted nothing apart of.

It wasn’t intentional, but they found themself gravitating closer and closer to the countess, her presence turning out to be an unexpected comfort amidst the chaos. Perhaps it was the familiarity that kept them at ease, they mused, the sound of her voice an anchor against the tides of dignified snobbery. While she wasn’t quelling the nausea that found itself nestled in their gut, just being near her...it kept them grounded. Somewhat. Not entirely. Any little scrap of relief counted for something, so they took what they could get.

The sound of a spoon tapping against a wine glass caught their attention, the loud, piercing clinking stabbing at their brain as a hush fell over the room. An announcement. If this was something that genuinely mattered to them, Saira would’ve kicked themself for hardly having picked up any of what was said. That said, the emphasized usage of “dastardly” and “masterminding” told them all they needed to know; they’ve heard enough of Professor’s Maelstrom’s speeches to know the gloatings of success by now.

Hm...if there was a speech now, that must mean that the dance would be starting soon. Dances. The thought of having to perform multiple dances left their chest hollow. Why should it? They’ve practiced plenty of times with Cleo. Could it be because of the surrounding company? Their frazzled state? The current setting? Perhaps a combination of all these things? It had to be.

Cleo gently squeezed their hand. A wordless question.

“Are you going to be okay?” Saira looked up at her, greeting the glimpses of worry with tired eyes. Her lips were pulled taut in a frown. It tickled them, the thought of her being so worried about their wellbeing. So tickled, in fact, that the stray thought of them possibly being the only person to receive this treatment crossed their mind. It was unlikely; surely there was someone she showed the same level of care to during her runway days.

“I’ll be fine, Countess.” Saying it aloud wasn’t going to do them any good. They knew that. It was a fool’s wish, hoping that, by saying those words aloud, it’ll become the truth. That, by saying those words aloud, their rapidly increasing nervousness would disappear.

It wouldn’t, however. The only thing they found to be plummeting was their stomach as the first note rang out, the sound reverberating through their bones. Somehow, they didn’t expect that the orchestrated symphony was going to be significantly louder than what they had just experienced. No matter. They’ve dealt with worse, after all. A worse that they haven’t had to be faced with in years, but that didn’t mean anything. They were going to do this. They were sure of that.

Step back. 

Step forward.

Turn.

A simple pattern. The lines were drawn over, their back nudging into another guests. Too far? Or simply not enough room? It was spacious, yet not apparently enough. An error on their part? Or another’s? It wasn’t going to matter. This was something that was going to be done and over with soon.

Step back.

Step forward.

Turn.

Focus. Saira needed to focus. However, the harder they tried, the further it slipped away. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Practice was fine. The execution should be fine. Did they already have this thought?

Step back.

Step.

Turn.

Their rhythm was fine. Nothing was out of place. It was as it should be.

Step.

Step.

Turn.

Golds and oranges blurred together around them, freckles of blues and purples and greens streaking across the glimmering backdrop. A flurry of black-and-white pixels writhed beneath their skin, consuming their sense of touch and leaving behind an awareness of self. The outline of their hand tightening around a foreign feel. Their legs were licorice, an uncomfortable winding that twisted around and around. 

Dream-like. Reality shouldn’t be feeling as though it were the waking escape of REM.

Saira blinked. They stopped moving. Was anyone else moving? A quick glance around saw that everyone was still. The music stopped. They were being pulled again, away from the hall. Was this apart of the dance?

They were only numbly aware of Cleo’s voice. Asking them something. They needed to focus.

“—ra, are you paying attention?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to go someplace quieter?”

“Depends. Is that what you want to do?” Their speech sounded odd, disjointed.

“To the balcony, then.”

-

It wasn’t the night’s icy chill that snapped them out of their stupor. Rather, it was the gradual recollection of themself, slowly processing their removal from an environment noisy in the aspects of sight and sound and smells. The darkness always brought them comfort. It was quiet, at least, as quiet as it could be. The light wasn’t assaulting, the sounds weren’t clamoring...it was peaceful. They had a massive headache.

“Saira, I want to apologize to you—”

“Don’t; I knew what I was getting myself into, Countess. I only have myself to blame.”

“Saira…” 

“If you feel so bad about it, then how about you do me a small favor? Go. I need time to gather myself before I return to the hall.”

If Cleo left, they weren’t able to hear the clicking of her heels.

They inhaled deeply, their shoulders trembling with the force of it. The queasy feeling that had nestled in their gut was beginning to fade, the world that had which turned monochrome slowly regaining its color. Saira hated going out in public. Hated having to tune out everything just to remain invisible, masked. Upon joining VILE, they swore that they would refrain from forcing themself into situations that triggered dissociative episodes, but here they were. 

Admittedly, they didn’t have much of a choice; it was something that simply had to be done.

Saira rubbed at their wrist, staring at the floor. The muffled sounds of the ball didn’t bother them here. As a matter of fact, this was the closest thing they’ve had to serenity since...a while. It...it truly has been a while, hm? Time felt like a blur when they tried to think about it, minutes and hours and days lost to searching and tinkering and inventing. Trying to pinpoint an exact moment wasn’t an option; it felt like a moment displaced out of reality, lost in the clock’s eternal path forward. The only thing they could actually remember, albeit tinged with fuzziness, was the time they had spent with Cleo.

“Are you still there, Countess?”

“Of course.” Cleo’s voice was soft, unnatural.

“Why _did_ you ask me to accompany you?”

“As I’ve told you before, I needed a partner.”

“Is that the _only_ reason?” 

“Yes.” Saira turned to look at her. “Well, maybe. No. No, it wasn’t.” Cleo twiddled her thumbs, joining them on the balcony. “I was worried about you. I thought that, perhaps, something like this would’ve helped to take your mind off of things. I’ve seen you lock yourself up in your lab for days, busying yourself with some blueprints, but never have I seen you forget to take care of yourself to such an extent that you start isolating yourself.” Saira laughed.

“I would’ve never expected that someone such as yourself was even capable of caring about other people.” They sighed, leaning against the palm of their hand. “I do appreciate the sentiment, Countess, but what could’ve possessed you to think that something like this would’ve soothed my nerves?” 

“I figured it was worth a shot. Besides, this is something that I enjoy. I suppose a part of me hoped that you would’ve enjoyed it, too.” Saira didn’t reply, absently chewing on the corner of their lip. “Now it’s my turn for a question: I told you that you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to. Why did you still come? You’re clearly not having a good time.”

“If I didn’t, I’m sure that you would’ve spent the following weeks moping about it. Like that time you weren’t invited to that one sculpture auction. You entered every single room with a heavy sigh, dropping yourself down on whatever seat was nearby with a tissue already peppering your cheeks.”

“Hm hm.”

“I’d rather sacrifice some of my own sanity than to ever experience that again.” They couldn’t tell what Cleo was feeling. At least, the exact word wasn’t coming to mind. It looked as if she didn’t know whether she should feel flattered or offended. 

“I...I appreciate the thought.”

“I would hope so; this is the farthest away I’ve ever been from my comfort zone.” Cleo placed her hand on theirs, entwining their fingers together. The gesture confused them. They weren’t dancing or anything. Was there some meaning behind this? Something they were supposed to pick up on? Her hand was warm. Their face was warm. That’s all they really knew, at the moment.

“Can I request something?”

“What else do you need?”

“Do you think you can try to lose the attitude? I do believe that the dance is over soon, and I would greatly appreciate it if you tried to mask at least some of your irritance.” Saira furrowed their brow, tapping against the railing. 

“I can’t make any promises, but I can make an attempt.” Cleo smiled, the moonlight further lighting up her face. Something about it set their heart throbbing. 

“Shall we?”

-

Going from the lulling outside back into the deafening inside was just as straining as it was the first time. They were sure that they were unable to mask the grimace that etched itself onto their face. No, no they were positive. They received that confirmation when Ms. Booker joined them, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Saira, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Ms. Booker.”

“Are you sure? You look unwell.”

“I’m _fine._” Ms. Booker looked slightly taken aback, her questioning gaze flicking towards Cleo in the hopes of receiving some kind of answer. Out of the corner of their eye, they could see her slightly shake her head, knowing better than to tell. Hopefully it wasn’t a matter that was going to be discussed later; they’d much rather their conversation remain private.

“If that’s the case, might I offer to get us all drinks? We still have a few minutes before the next dance begins.”

“That would be appreciated,” Cleo replied. Ms. Booker didn’t say anything else as she walked off. Saira couldn’t help but have a sneaking suspicion that they put her off. Perhaps they were just overthinking it. It was too loud again. The absent-minded chatter, accompanied by a cacophony of laughs and the clinking of glasses. Cheers. Why did people say cheers? What about this situation was cheerful? It was just a ball with like-minded individuals. There wasn’t anything special about that. They were missing something. They were always missing something.

Cleo’s arm delicately wrapping around theirs pulled them out of their thoughts like a spoon through molasses. Saira couldn’t help but wonder if they put her off, too; she was sure to feel them tense at the contact. No, that wasn’t it. She was still harboring her worries. They wanted to feel irritated at this, but they couldn’t find it in them. Not with their current state.

“I’m going to find a less crowded area, alright?” They hummed in response, allowing Cleo to guide them through the crowd. It felt embarrassing, pushing past all those people and feeling their eyes turn on them. Any attempts to rationalize their situation just felt...odd. In their head, they felt helpless, like a dazed person being dragged forward. When they actually looked, studying their stances...they looked like anyone else. Sure, Cleo had the reigns, but she didn’t appear to be dragging them. “If you would prefer, we can dance over here.”

“I would.” Saira paused. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t have to be thanking me; I should’ve ensured your comfort from the beginning.”

“Mm.” They shuffled closer to Cleo. If you were to ask them why, they wouldn’t be able to give a clear, definitive answer. Were they trying to hide? To make themself even smaller by standing so close to the taller woman? Or perhaps did she make them feel better? To be accompanied by someone they knew. To know that this someone was taking their feelings into some consideration, at the very least. Yeah, she shouldn’t have brought them _here_, of all places, but, as any scrap of media would say, it was the thought that counted.

It didn’t make them feel any better, but it was a nice thing to think.

Ms. Booker joined them in the quiet corner of the ballroom, carefully carrying three glasses of wine. Two glasses of wine. One glass of tea. They serve tea at balls? Apparently. They were looking at one.

Saira accepted it gingerly, nodding their appreciation towards VILE’s bookkeeper. Based on the smell, it was an earl grey tea. Unsurprising, really. At least it was a flavor they were familiar with. Familiarity was always good.

They didn’t speak at all over the next few minutes. Somehow, this made them nervous. Maybe. Guilty? Their emotions were confusing. It was easier when they didn’t have to figure this out. Why did they have to figure this out? They never needed to before. They were getting caught up in their thoughts again. That music was just so loud.

The tea was mediocre at best; a tad bit too cold for their liking.

“Saira?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ready for the next dance?” Their eyes drifted across the ballroom, watching people gravitate towards their respective partners. Ah. It must be that time again. They sighed, softly. Not to show their irritation, no, for that had already passed. Rather, it was for themself, a release of a pressure building in their chest. Anxiety, they presumed. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

-

They tried. They really did. However, no matter how hard they tried to keep themself grounded, they just...couldn’t find that energy again. Feelings and observations were fleeting, the blaring symphony ringing in their ears, drowning out steps and twirls and holds. They were aware of Cleo keeping them steady. Holding them a second longer.

Visually, things were even harder to make sense of. All around them was a blur of colors, moving in the same patterns, faces so close yet somehow out of view. The only person who was clear was, well, Cleo. That was only logical. She was right in front of them, after all. Smiling, as though all were well. Perhaps it was, or, well, at least, better than they thought things were. There was no doubt in their mind that she knew that they weren’t focusing on anything; she must’ve learned what those signs looked like by now. And yet...despite their earlier conversation, she didn’t seem to take offense. 

Saira smiled. They found solace in that. The exact reason wasn’t clear. They knew that they were warm, fuzzy. Her hand was squeezing around theirs, thumb brushing across their knuckles. It was a soothing gesture, of that they were sure. 

They bumped into Cleo. She had stopped. Everyone had stopped. It was quiet. They felt as though their legs were about to give out. Surely this must be the end?

To their relief, the music didn’t start up again. Partners split apart, giving each other respective bows. Oh. They should do that too. Hopefully it wouldn’t look too awkward. Hm, well, what did it matter? No one would notice; their eyes were on the floor.

To their further relief, Cleo didn’t have them stay long for the...ending speech. Did she mention what it was called? If she did, it was a word that had since been completely forgotten. It couldn’t have been that important. If it was, she probably would’ve had them stand through it.

The moment they exited the ballroom elicited such a strong feeling of joy from them. Knowing that, finally, after however long they were here for, it was done. Over. They didn’t have to experience this again. What a splendid feeling. Saira wanted to curl up somewhere on the ground and remain unmoving for an unspecified amount of time. _Not yet_, they thought. _All you need to do is get through the helicopter ride. At least it’s something that’s familiar._

Saira sunk into the cushion with nothing but pure enervatability. The temptation to sleep was to be expected, fueled by overstimulation and physical exertion, but falling asleep on the helicopter? That was simply unacceptable. What if they weren’t able to be awoken? Would they be carried out? Unimaginable. They’d rather go back to the ballroom than have something as embarrassing as that occur.

“Saira?”

“Mm?” They opened an eye they hadn’t even realized they shut.

“Are you doing alright?”

“Does it look like I’m doing alright?”

“You look very tired.”

“Mhm.” Cleo pursed her lips.

“Tired does not tell me if you are doing well.”

“I could be worse.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Silence crept in faster than they intended.

“...I will.” Saira adjusted their posture, having realized they were slouching. As long as they could make themself as physically uncomfortable as possible, they wouldn’t fall asleep. “I just…” they frowned, looking at their shoes, “I just need a few days. To recharge, I mean.” Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Cleo twiddling with her thumbs. How unlike her. “I would ask that you refrain from disturbing me in this timeframe, as well as taking the extra step to inform our colleagues of my request.”

“Okay.” There was a pang of sadness trimming her voice. It bothered them. They didn’t need her pity. Or for her to be upset, either.

“You?”

“Hm?” They sighed.

“You. Did you have a good time.”

“Oh. I did. It was the most fun I’ve had in months.” The tension that had spontaneously gripped their shoulders eased. So they didn’t ruin it for her. That’s good. Unless she was lying. _No, no, have faith. You’ve told her multiple times to not feel sorry for you. She’s being honest._

“I’m happy to hear.” Saira folded their hands across their stomach. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“A reason to excuse myself from my duties.” They paused. “I’m not exactly pleased with how it went, but...well, anything to escape from the constant reminders of failure, I suppose.” Saira looked up at Cleo, weariness blurring their vision. They really needed to stop talking. “It was a matter of choosing discomforts and, in the end, I decided that I’d rather be uncomfortable with you.”

“...I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Saira smiled weakly, closing their eyes as the helicopter’s whirs began cutting through the air. An hour. That was how long it was going to take before they returned home. Perhaps...perhaps a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all the fact that i hadn't finished this chapter was sincerely eating away at me for 2 months but now i can rest a bit easier
> 
> i don't know when the final chapter is gonna be done but hopefully soon? we'll see. either way, for those who were maybe waiting for this to be updated thank you for your patience o/


	5. A Wrap-Up, Of Sorts

The clicking of her heels echoed through the empty hallways. It was early, much too early for any of their students to be out and about. It was at times like these where Cleo couldn’t help but be thankful that their students didn’t try to completely exceed expectations; the last thing she needed was someone seeing her look so...so...she didn’t even want to think about it.

Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by. Saira had said she’d only need a few days, but those days etched on in painfully slow increments, bleeding into increasing hours without her dear scientist. Their dear scientist. 

Cleo sighed, taking a moment to collect herself. She should’ve expected this. Saira wasn’t exactly known for sticking to deadlines, after all. Although...that wasn’t the only thing to factor in. No, the ball had left her completely drained, so much so that she had fallen asleep on the ride home. It pained her, having to rouse her from that seemingly peaceful slumber she was in, but Cleo knew that Saira would’ve despised being carried in.

If she was going to be truthful...a quiet part of her thoughts wishes that she did. Those thoughts were troublesome things, distracting her from what needed to be done. It’s gotten to the point where, oh, the absolute nerve of him, where Gunnar told her that _she_ needed a _break. Her!_ How preposterous. Acting as though he isn’t worried about Saira. A few days, she had said. That’s what Cleo had told them. 

She rubbed her temples, the beginnings of a headache creeping in. 

There was simply no way that she was the only one who was concerned, right? Coach Brunt had nary a response to her absence. It wasn’t like she couldn’t imagine why, Cleo knew full well why she didn’t seem to care. Anger came too easily to her, so much so that it obscured rational thought but _surely_ she _did_ care. Gunnar was impossible to read, but _certainly_ he _did_ care. Right?

Cleo didn’t think of herself as someone who could get incredibly frustrated. She was a lady of culture, someone prim and proper, calm and collected. Oh, the dawning realization that she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she had _almost walked into someone_ was one that left her rather horrified.

“My sincerest apologies, I’m rather—”

“Good morning, Countess.”

“Saira?!” Cleo couldn’t mask her surprise, nor would she have if she had the option. 

“Yes?”

“You’re out?”

“Yes.”

“You’re heading to the faculty lounge?”

“Your observational skills are as astute as ever, Cleo.” She took a deep breath.

“Apologies. I suppose I’m just…” she swirled her hand in a circular motion, searching for the right word to say, “I’m delighted. To see you, I mean.”

“I must say that I’m delighted to see you as well.”

“Did you rest okay?”

“Mostly, yes. If—” Cleo closed her mouth, “you’re going to ask what I did, it’s nothing worth noting. A lot of sleeping, a lot of reading, a lot of tinkering, things that I’m sure you expect me to do.”

“Sorry.” She took a deep breath.

“What for?”

“My excitement. I don’t want to be so overbearing on you.”

“Oh, well,” Saira fidgeted with the buttons on her coat, “thank you, I suppose.”

Such a state to be in, Cleo mused, to be so giddy and relieved that it strangled any semblance of structured thought. It was as though there were a stitch missing from threads of conversation, their sentences lackluster and dull as they filled that aching silence. These long pauses were truly going to be her downfall. It should’ve been enough, to simply be with her presence, to know that she’d done nothing irreparable! Oh, how was she to put it in words? Their meeting was soon, and the sudden rush of emotion that had overcome her was one she wanted to savor. Stalling was a fruitless endeavor, but...seconds were the only thing she wanted.

Was that a silly thing to admit? 

“Are you alright, Countess?”

“Me? Why, yes, yes of course. Why do you ask?” Saira frowned, furrowing her brow.

“You seem...off. I’ve never heard you consistently fall flat in a conversation. Are you sure you haven’t come down with a cold?”

“I’m sure, but I do appreciate your concern, Doctor.” Seemingly satisfied with her answer, she eased, folding her hands behind her back. Should that have tickled her so?

“That sounds more like the Cleo I know.” She looked down the hall. “Ah, I suppose we should get to the meeting.”

“I suppose we should.” Just as she took a step forward, Saira stopped.

“Oh!”

“Hm?”

“I realized that I’d forgotten something. Something very important.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Might I inspect your hand, Countess?”

“My...hand?”

“Yes, your hand.”

“What do you need my hand for?”

“Please, Countess, I don’t have all day.”

“Well, alright then.” Unsure as to what the scientist had planned, Cleo held out her hand.

There was nothing, _nothing_, that could’ve prepared Cleo for what was about to happen. Truthfully, it was remarkable, how she had been so blindsided by it. Traditions and chivalrous gestures were nothing short of ingrained in her mind, but they weren’t things she associated with Saira. That was why she hadn’t bothered with anything of the sort of the ball. Needless to say, the moment the scientist leaned forward to place a kiss upon her hand...she found herself speechless. Absolutely, utterly speechless. 

Her mind flickered to that night, when Saira had been working on something. A technological orb. Witnessing it short-circuiting in her hands. Cleo had always found that term to be a rather silly thing, but it was the only word she could think of that could describe what she was feeling.

“Consider my promise fulfilled, Countess.”

With a devious grin, Saira disappeared into the lounge, the door clicking shut behind her. In her mind’s eye, Cleo saw herself following her, her eyes needing their moment to adjust to the bright green that filtered into their lounge. That was only in her mind’s eye, however, as she found herself rooted outside, entrapped by nothing but pure shock and awe. She had never allowed herself to reel so far away, but this was surely a rare case in which it was allowed. It was unlike her to do that, something so far out of character that she couldn’t help but wonder if she were dreaming.

It wasn’t until she heard Gunnar’s voice through the door that she was sure; the thought of him being in her dreams gave her a dreadful shudder. 

“Ah, Dr. Bellum, how wonderful it is that you’ve finally returned.”

Cleo held her hand close to her chest, rubbing it softly. He was right: it was _wonderful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! wow! oops! it took me almost a year to write a chapter that was never meant to be long! i suppose i have good reasons, between pandemic, battling with hyperfixations, struggling with a lack of motivation due to increased hours at work, all those fun cool great things.
> 
> i thought about this chapter every single day. the last chapter, the chapter that was meant to be an ending and not something as lengthy as the fourth chapter. "c'mon cosmic, you can do it, just write it" i told myself. and then i didnt! until finally i was able to. wow! sorry for anyone who waited for this chapter, and sorry if it disappoints a lil n_n;;
> 
> either way, thank you for reading and sticking around <3 hope y'all are staying safe and taking care of yourselves


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